Another thanks to Brenda for editing and to Kate for her advice. Thanks ladies!

*****

But Chris had been right. God, Sam thought, even through the many layers he felt the cold bite into his body. His fingers seemed to stiffen and he clenched the gas handle of the Snocat harder just to keep the circulation moving. Backup tickled the inside of his ear.

"5.3 to 3.7."

"3.7 here. What is it, Backup?"

"A small course correction. Go seven degrees right or you'll miss the rendezvous point."

"Copy that, 5.3. How long before estimated arrival?"

"At current speed you should get there in about ...fifteen minutes."

"Roger, 5.3. Oh, Backup?"

"Yes?"

"I sure could do with a hot cup of tea when I get there."

A soft sympathetic laugh, and the answer came straight away.

"Copy that, Sam. It'll be ready on arrival. 5.3 Out."

He steered the Snocat at little more to the right. It hadn't been easy to keep the correct course as the landscape of Greenland was far more hilly than he had expected. Suddenly, they were crossing a glittering, wide-open space. The mountains had been almost colourful: white came to life in every colour of the spectrum - tones of purple, pink, green, and blue. Amazing, he reflected idly, that white could hold so many different shades. Sam looked over his shoulder and saw Chris a few yards behind him. The American's voice sounded muffled from behind the protective face mask but sounded reassuring inside his ear.

"You okay, Sam?"

"Apart from the fact I'm having my arse frozen off, I'm fine."

"Did we go off course?" Chris had noticed the slight shift.

"A little, Backup just corrected us. We could make up for lost time on this sheet ice. Come on, I'll race ya!"

He opened the gas handle fully and the Snocat leaped forwards. He spurted away, leaving a fountain of snow behind. Chris followed suit.

The American was totally unprepared for his partner suddenly disappearing. One moment Sam was about 15 yards ahead, and the next, he had simply vanished from the surface as the ice cracked under his skids. The Snocat went down and Sam with it. Chris yanked at the steering and passed the hole by a mere yard. He leaned towards one side and dropped to the snowy ice while the Snocat bumped on without a driver and spun around on its own axle with a slowly dying engine.

Speed was everything. Chris crawled onto his belly to the hole as Sam resurfaced, grasping for breath. Chris grabbed him by the collar while Sam tried desperately to get out of the hole. They struggled frantically, Sam's movements hindered by the icy water and the wet clothes and Chris by the knowledge that if he leaned forwards too far, he would go down too.

But then their arms hooked - one strong pull and Sam was free. In frantic haste, Chris dragged him away from the hole as far as possible.

Sam couldn't move, paralysed by the cold water. He was shaking so much that his teeth clattered, and the wet, dark hair froze immediately, forming a matted tangle of frost and icicles. His face was already turning blue, Chris realised, fighting the panic. He tugged off his gloves and started tearing at the cold, wet, rapidly freezing clothes.

"Sam, I've got to get you out of these. Come on, buddy, hold on!"

Sam's lips were colourless. His eyes fixed on Chris but he was incapable of helping him. There was only one solution, and that was a knife, tucked down inside the Inuit suit. Chris snapped it open and literally tore the already stiffening clothing apart and threw it aside. Next, he pulled off the heavy coat and trousers and onto his partner, rubbing him as hard as he could, feeling the uncontrollable shaking. Now, the Greenland cold hit Chris fully, but Sam's need was greater. The difference between life and death in these temperatures was a question of just minutes after falling into icy water.

Blessedly, the R/T was safe in its waterproof cover among the shredded clothing.

"4.5 to control!," he screamed into it. "Emergency. I repeat emergency. We need a rescue team NOW!"

He didn't wait for an answer but turned his attention to Sam again. Sam looked frighteningly chilled and vulnerable, his face still bluish amid the fur around the hood. His teeth were still chattering, and unconsciousness seemed little more than a step away given the fluttering, frost-covered eyelashes.

"Hold on, Sam. Help's coming." Chris was shivering too, but from somewhere found the strength to pull his friend close. Sliding his hands inside the suit, he continued the rubbing, refusing to stop.

"This is typical, Sam Curtis. You know that?" He had to keep Sam awake. "You just can't resist showing off, can you? Why didn't you just wait till we got back to London to show me how well you can dive? And if you wanted my suit so bad, then you should have asked."

The green eyes flickered. With amusement? Or was he sliding again?

"And don't think Malone will be pleased with you for losing one of those nice, expensive Snocats. I can see the chewing-out you're gonna get already."

"I sssssay ...yyyyou.. wwwwantttted tttto race mmmmeeee", Sam replied with chattering teeth. Chris knew his partner was probably fully aware of the need to stay awake, although it was draining him. But it was essential - if he drifted off now…that state of indifference was notorious.

"Sure, I knew you'd say that. But it was you who wanted to race me, remember? C'mon, Sam, keep talking - stay with me."

The American felt the cold cheeks under his own hands that were now tingling and increasingly numb, but he had to keep talking. Had to keep him awake. Leaning further towards his partner, he brought his mouth towards Sam's face, trying to blow warm air onto it. Then he remembered something.

"There's some brandy in a flask in my Snocat. I'll fetch it. Don't go away, okay? I'll be right back."

He didn't like moving away, but the snow scooter was not far away. Protected only in a light sweater and pants over thermal underwear, his own body was reacting violently to the cold now. Come on, Backup. Get here, or neither of us will make it.

The Snocat was lying on its side after its engine had stopped when the pressure on the gas handles was released. Flipping the seat open, he found the steel flask, willing stiff fingers not to drop it, and turned back.

*****

Without any warning, Chris was suddenly face to face with a polar bear that had emerged from behind the hills and had padded over - he hadn't heard anything, too intent on helping his partner.

The huge animal reared onto its hind paws, towering over him. Then it growled, the warm, stinking breath hitting his face. Instinctively, Chris reached for his gun, but that had been tied to the outside of the suit - and that was now on Sam.

The yellow teeth bared, and a paw swung towards him. Sharp claws ripped open his chest, and the sheer power behind the blow threw Chris backwards. The predator followed, opening his jaws again, but Chris rolled aside, escaping by inches.

But now the bear was faster. He bit into Chris' shoulder - red balls exploded before his eyes as the pain struck him. Gathering every vestige of strength, the American pushed the flask towards the animal's face, aiming for one of the eyes.

The giant roared and released him, but it was angrier than ever. Chris rolled again, trying to get to his feet, but the bear moved even faster, attacking its prey with unexpected swiftness.

Chris fell, seeing the snowy surface rise up towards him, sensing the paws reaching towards his legs. The beast's weight was going to crush him, and again he made a desperate attempt to wriggle away. He could smell it, now - feel its warmth.

Oh, shit. This was the end.

The shots sounded like cannon fire in the silence of the Greenland landscape. The bear didn't make a sound, but seemed to topple, in slow motion, to land to Chris' side. Five round holes between the eyes were proof that Sam's marksmanship had lost nothing of its deadly precision.

The American looked up and saw his partner on his knees, the gun slowly dropping. The silver-green eyes held the trace of a smile, and then Sam crumpled soundlessly onto the snow.

Dizzily, Chris hauled himself up. His shoulder was a mess and hurt like hell. Blood was running down his arm at a worrying speed, and his sweater was drenched in it. But the warmth of the bear had given him an idea, if he only had the strength to carry it out. Somehow, he reached Sam, noting with gut-wrenching fear that his eyes were closed, now. He pulled out the knife, and somehow made it to the bear.
In one movement, he slit open the belly of the animal. The smell almost made him gag but he buried his hands deep into the intestines and pulled out what he could. Then he stumbled back to Sam, towed him to the animal and shoved him into the ripped open flank. Finally he crawled next to his pale friend and almost immediately sank away into blissful unconsciousness.

The emergency team found the spot easily. The white surface was broken by a star-shaped hole and blue-black water beneath it. Torn shreds of clothing were scattered around, but the strangest discovery was the gaping hole in the body of a blood-spattered polar bear and two still figures, lying motionless among the gore.

*****

Sam woke up in a tub, with warm, soothing water all around him. Was this a dream?

Slowly, tentatively, he opened his eyes to realise with amazement that he was in a special harness that kept his head above the surface but the rest of his body in the all-embracing warmth.

Then, everything that had happened came back in an instant - the Snocat, his involuntary dive into the ice cold water that had immediately paralysed him, the Inuit suit, and a undefined stench that he thought he could still smell.

Chris! The bear!

"Ho, ho, easy does it." A slow voice came from somewhere behind him in the poorly lit room and he looked up into the face of a middle aged, white-headed man who was wearing a doctor's coat. There was something unusual about him, but Sam couldn't figure out what it was.

"How do you feel?"

"What is this place? Who are you? Where's my partner?"

"My name is Malnit. I am the ship's doctor. And you are on board the Laetitia where you were brought like yesterday morning."

"But Keel? Chris Keel? He was with me…"

"Your partner?" the doctor seemed to notice his worry, and the slow voice was immediately reassuring.

"He lost a lot of blood, since the bear severed an artery. He required a blood transfusion and a great deal of stitching. Like you, he is suffering from hypothermia. But again like you, he will be fine."

"Can I see him?"

"Not yet, but you will later on. I want you in this tub for at least one more hour now you've rejoined us, then you can get out and I'll have you checked over. We'll see if Mr. Keel is up to a visitor by that time. Relax and enjoy the warmth."

With that, he left, but almost immediately after there was a knock on the door and Backup's head appeared around it.

"Hi Sam. Can I come in?"

"I'm not decent." Sam replied, slightly embarrassed.

"Oh, I'll forgive you this time." Tina Backus sounded remarkably cheerful. "Glad you're back, Sam. How do you feel?"

"Tired, I guess. And still cold inside. Funny feeling, can't really describe it."

"It was close, Sam. For both of you."

"Yeah. You're sure Chris is OK? You saw him?"

"He'll be fine."

"The disk? Was it damaged? Did you find it?" They'd got it from the survey station, and if it was lost the entire mission had been a waste.

"Sure did. It was in Chris' suit. If you'd been carrying it, the cold and the wet would have ruined it. And Richards is working on it right now. Oh - Malone said he was glad you got out of there."

Sam sighed. The mission was over. The disk was in the right hands. And both he and his partner had come out of it alive.

*****

PART TWO

"Mr. Curtis, where's Mr. Keel? I need to talk to him." Malone barked at Sam who was working on a report at his desk. It was five days since they'd reached England again, and was in the office writing reports and tying up loose ends. He was better, but still not up to par - despite his assurances. In the end, he'd admitted that the doctors in London were right and was concentrating on getting back into shape. Keel was just out of hospital, and supposed to be recovering at home for another day or two at least before a full de-briefing.

"He's not at home, sir?"

"He should be, but apparently he's not answering. Perhaps you would like to find him and tell him to call me?"

Sam let out a sigh, wishing the old man could do his errands for himself. His partner was supposed to be resting, not being called back in or subject to one of Malone's question and answer sessions. The injuries had been serious, and Keel hadn't looked up to doing anything much yet.

He glanced over at Backup, who shook her head, and then picked up the phone.

After a few rings, the answering machine took over.

"It's Chris. I'm gardening, can't hear the phone. Leave a message or call me back."

Sam looked in pure amazement at the receiver in his hand. Since when did Chris have that message on his machine? Insiders knew his "garden" was a graveyard, but few others did. Was he really out there?

He tried the mobile phone and had no luck there, either. Sighing, he picked up his coat and headed for his partner's flat. Gardening indeed. Chris lived in a former boathouse that had been turned into apartments overlooking a graveyard. His American friend never seemed to mind but Sam had always found it strange, considering the way Chris had lost his wife. Chris, however, seemed to like it.

He rang the doorbell, but there was no answer.

"Wake up, Chris. C'mon, open up!"

Still silence.

Sam took out the spare key and let himself in. As usual the place was a mess, and once again Sam wondered how somebody this chaotic could be so precise in his work. Shoes, newspapers, a dirty T-shirt and an empty coke bottle were the first things he fell over as he walked in.

In the living room, however, music was playing - meaning his partner maybe hadn't heard the phone. This time, it was Puccini's "Nessun Dorma". Sam grinned, realising his partner could still surprise him with his unusual and broad taste in music. The woman's voice followed him as he turned around to check the bedroom, which was equally messy. But still no Chris.

He went towards the kitchen and nearly tripped over a pair of legs.

His partner, shoulder still heavily bandaged and dressed only in colourful boxer shorts, was lying unconscious on the kitchen floor in a bright yellow puddle. Obviously he'd been pouring orange juice, but both the carton and the glass had fallen off of the draining board. The glass was smashed to pieces on the floor, and Chris was lying amid the fragments.

Blood had streamed from his nose, and had mingled with the juice to form a strange, brilliant orange. Sam gasped, horrified, and thumbed the emergency button on his mobile phone as he dropped to his knees beside his partner's limp body.

"Chris? It's me, Sam."

Chris was cold and still, and the pulse in his neck was thready and irregular. He must have been there some time, Sam realised, seeing the juice already drying, sticky against his fingers. Running to the living room, he grabbed a cushion and slid it gently under the spiky brown hair. The American shivered, suddenly, and his lashes fluttered.

"Chris, can you hear me? Open your eyes. Come on, buddy, look at me." Sam tried.

Suddenly Chris seemed to curl up in pain, and he moaned. The sheer agony of it showed on his face, and Sam instinctively reached for his partner's hand, trying to offer comfort as the clutching fingers squeezed it so hard that it hurt.

"Ambulance is on its way, Chris. It's okay… they're coming."

Again, a moan that cut into Sam like a knife. So much pain. Oh, Jesus, what was taking them so fucking long?

*****

Sam rested his head against the cool glass that separated him from the room beyond. He could see just a little of Chris' body there. Tubes and apparatus seemed to be all over the still body.

Everything had happened like in some sort of a dream. The ambulance had arrived and the team had found Sam holding Chris in his arms, trying to soothe the throes of what seemed like sheer agony. Chris had come round just for a second, his blue eyes searching for the silver-green ones. In them, Sam had registered something he had not seen before. Despair - genuine despair. Then he'd cried out silently as the pain took hold again and had then mercifully, slid into unconsciousness. Cold as he seemed, sweat was pouring from him.

The medical staff had rushed him away, and Sam was bombarded by questions. Had he noticed anything earlier? Had Keel ever had these symptoms before? Had he been complaining about headaches or other pains? Had he seen this fever before? They kept reappearing, never satisfied, but then Sam was alone in the hallway, worry clutching at him.

Malone soon arrived, followed by Backus, and he had to explain it all again, still numbed from the terrible discovery.

They waited for what seemed like an eternity, until a doctor dressed in green, blood-soaked operating scrubs headed their way. He took off the cap he was wearing and ruffled an absent hand through non-existant hair.
All that blood, Sam thought. Just like on the floor. Backus, too, barely repressed a shudder.

The doctor saw the expression on her face and raised his hands in an apology.

"Don't be alarmed, miss. I was called away from surgery and didn't have time to change yet. This is not your friend's."

Malone straightened his back, obviously making an effort to keep that characteristic indifference.

"Well, doctor, can you tell us something?" he said, keeping his voice as flat as possible.

"There is something wrong with his blood. It is too early yet to determine what is causing the pain or even to be able to know what is going on. He's on heavy painkillers right now, but because of the nature of this ... this seizure I am reluctant to give him more medication. You cannot go in. We must keep every form of infection out. Even the slightest virus you could be carrying could be fatal to his immune system at this point."
Backup spoke, in carefully chosen words.

"Doctor, he was given a blood transfusion. Could that be the cause of this? Could he have received the wrong type?"

"No." the doctor replied firmly. "It would have showed up within 24 hours and killed him. I've seen the file. It's been... what... five days? I have ordered more blood work, but that scenario doesn't apply here."

"And what about the injuries? An infection of some kind?"

"That would have shown immediately with the first blood run. Besides, the wound looks clean and healthy."

"He was attacked by a polar bear, doctor." Backup tried again. "Could that account for something?"
He let out an understanding but tired sigh and once again rubbed his hairless head.

"Miss, I understand your worry but I cannot go about making bold assumptions that I cannot prove. I need scientific evidence and I cannot give him anything if I don't understand what is going on. And to be honest, we're absolutely in the dark right now."

He shrugged an apology, nodded a curt greeting and turned on his soft, white shoes. Just before opening an orange-painted door he paused.

"Which of you gentlemen is Mr. Curtis?" he asked.

"I am." Sam replied softly.

"I would appreciate it if you left your telephone number at the desk."

The message hit Sam in the stomach. He had witnessed Chris in terrible circumstances but his partner had always come out of it. Given time, broken bones had mended and the cuts and bruises had healed. That had always been a - a controllable state. But now this? Nobody knew what was happening, and now his friend was desperately ill with a frightening yet unidentified disease.

Sam had witnessed the pain, knowing just how bad it had been. And then that request for his number, meaning they'd call him if… God, no, was he actually implying that? Had the physician seen Chris drifting off towards the inevitable? Had he meant that Chris was not going to survive this?

Sam shook his head to chase the dark thoughts away. Malone had spoken but he had not registered anything of it. He had to force himself to pay attention to what the man was saying.

"Sorry, sir?"

"I said, Mr. Curtis, that you can have the day off tomorrow. Let me know if there's any change. Miss Backus, I want you fit and ready, so go home in time tonight and get some sleep."

The two operatives nodded and looked as the older man in the dark grey suit walked away from them, through the swing doors and off to the world outside.

*****

Backup locked the door behind her. Before she could even turn the lights on, a small tabby cat twisted around her legs meowing loudly and purring at the same time. It sounded like a little engine running and Backup loved it - it made her feel welcome and at home. She picked her up, stroked and tickled her behind the ears, murmuring in the animal's ear. The cat pushed herself against her owner's face and purred even louder.

"Hello Nino. Glad I'm back? The boss sent me home. You must be hungry, huh? You want some kitty food?" She went into the kitchen of the small but cosy apartment, fed her four-legged companion and made herself a cup of Earl Grey.

She lowered herself down on the kitchen floor after a while, and watched the little tabby eat her meal.

Her mind drifted back to the hospital and Chris' ashen face, traces of blood from the nosebleed still visible. She liked the American a lot. And she too, had realised the doctor had carefully steered them into a direction that she didn't want to accept. She wasn't ready to for it - this just couldn't be true. Chris? Die on them? Impossible. Physically he was stronger than a horse and mentally he had shown surprising flexibility. Every case he had been working on somehow had made him a stronger person, more complete, even. She liked him for his good humour, his energy and the constant bantering with his partner. Chris - like Sam - was one of the few who didn't see her as just a piece of the furniture. He was very much aware of her potential and had relied on and trusted her more than once.

This couldn't happen. Mustn't happen. Not to Chris. And what would it do to Sam?

Nino had finished, washed herself and jumped, satisfied, into her lap so she got up, holding the little cat in her arms and strolled into the living room. It had the typical feminine touch that turns a place into a home. Tasteful paintings decorated the walls and many African artefacts were displayed throughout the room. Backup had a soft spot for African culture and collected all kinds of objects from the continent.

She walked over to a beautifully carved cupboard and opened it. A very effective computer system was hidden behind the door, and she turned the machine on, sitting down with the Earl Grey on the table and Nino comfortably installed in her lap.

For hours she surfed the Internet. Long ago, she had programmed a search engine with a highly effective filter, and now used it, first to research into illnesses. She entered the symptoms that Chris had displayed, and all that gave her was a frightening mixture of mild ailments and terminal diseases.

Suddenly, she felt extraordinarily ignorant, and abandoned that direction after a few hours to concentrate on polar bears. There, there was nothing much she didn't know already: their huge height, weight and the general misconception that they were slow and fat. She remembered seeing Chris brought in covered with deep gashes, and shivered. Both men had superb reflexes, but they still hadn't been able to get away from its deceptive speed, mainly thanks to their accident and the cold.

She looked at everything she could find on animals transmitting diseases to humans and was surprised about the wealth of those. Even Nino, happily sleeping in her lap, was a potential cause of danger. Diseases spread by rats and parrots were notorious, but there was so much more - and yet none of them linked to what she'd seen with Chris.

She jumped as her mobile phone rang. It was Richards.

"Hey, Canada's fairest. You're still up?" He never ever called her Tina or Backup - she had come to understand that it was his way of expressing his appreciation for her. So she grinned into the phone and listened. "I passed your place, saw the lights on. I'm right outside."

"Hi. Yeah, I couldn't sleep with everything going on. Been surfing for some time."

"Some time? When was the last time you looked at your watch?"

To her surprise, Backup saw it was nearly morning. She sighed, blinked her eyes to get rid of the tension from so many hours in front of the screen, and told him to come up and have an early breakfast.
He did, as the first streaks of daylight were slowly emerging in the East.

*****

Sam hadn't slept much either that night. He had seen doctors and nurses coming and going in and out of his partner's room, speaking with grim expressions on their faces that only emphasised their concern. The seriousness of the case was really striking home now.

Time and time again his thoughts had been forced into one direction - Chris dying. His mind had wandered to cases they'd worked on in the past, and numerous places and faces came and went. Letting his thoughts roam, he had been incapable of calming the constant pounding of his heart and the fear inside him.

Exhausted, finally, he had eventually dozed off in the early hours before dawn.

When he woke up after a few hours of confusing dreams, the first thing he saw was a small woman standing in front of the window that separated the hallway from the IC unit. She stood very still, her eyes cast on the man in the bed who looked, even from this distance, even weaker than the day before.

"Fanny!" Sam got to his feet.

She turned around, a huge smile almost dividing her face in two.

"Sam. Didn't have the heart to wake you."

He stepped over to her and they hugged, holding each other tight and sharing the desperate fears they both felt just by touching.

"How did you get here?" Sam asked, as he reluctantly let go of her.

"Backup sent me an e-mail yesterday evening. I took the first plane."

They stepped over to the glass. Chris was shifting restlessly in the bed, where during the night someone had put up sidebars to prevent the patient from falling out. He had curled up to one side, clenching his arms around his body as if to protect it from the agony. The pain had turned his face ashen, and his eyes were sunken and bruised-looking. Just like all night, he was motionless for a few moments, then began moaning and tossing and turning to his other side. From there things would begin again, an endless loop of misery.

"What happened to him, Sam? Can't they do anything to help him?" Fanny asked, the sadness and fear in her voice all too evident.

Sam had forgotten just how delightful the young woman was. She and the CI5 operatives had met the previous year in a joint case with the Dutch police - one that had lead them into a gruesome affair of female slavery. Chris had fallen for her in a big way, and had long fought with guilt when Fanny Waterman had been severely injured in the line of duty. The tiny hearing aid and the slightly hoarse voice were battle scars that would remain with her for the rest of her life.

It had taken Sam a lot of effort to get Chris to accept that it hadn't been his fault and that his guilt would not help her, he reflected. But the biggest help had come from Fanny herself. She had never, not even once, blamed anyone. It was the past, she'd said, and had let Chris deal with his worries by listening and talking, and after a time he'd seemed to be able to cope with it better. A considerable amount of his spare time seemed to be spent on flights to Holland these days, Sam thought to himself. Until…

Sam touched her elbow, trying to find strength from somewhere, and ushered her to the door.

"Come on, Fanny. I could use some caffeine and maybe something to eat."

*****

Sam knew that Chris and Fanny had kept in touch and now, as he was talking to her, he began to realise once again why Chris was so fond of her. She was a good listener.

He told her everything that had happened and she didn't interrupt him once. Her warm, compassionate personality encouraged him to continue and while dawn slowly broke over the outside world, he gave way to the feelings and fears that had never left him all through the night.

The first shift of staff were coming into the hospital cafeteria, and soon their lighthearted morning conversation became louder as the number of people increased. Just as Sam wanted to ask Fanny where she was staying, his cell phone rang with Backup on the other end.

"I have to go," he told her, sighing. "Orders. Look, here's the key to the hospital locker where they put Chris' things. Chris' cell phone is in there too. Get it and call me if there's any change. Just press the "1" and you'll be talking to me."

"Okay, I will." She smiled reassuringly as she noticed his hesitation. "Go, Sam. You'll be the first one to know."

Emotions not far from the surface, he bent over to her and kissed her softly on the cheek.

"Thanks for coming, Fanny."

Her hazel eyes found his green ones. "Go, Sam." She just said calmly.

He left, leaving her with his half-emptied coffee cup and a half-eaten sandwich.

*****

Richards and Backup had come in early and were surprised to find they were not the first ones. Malone already was already at his desk behind a pile of paper, and was buried in a folder. The strain in his face was a mere reflection of the tiredness every agent involved were feeling, Backup decided.

She and Richards were put to work on a case involving the protection of three foreign diplomats. Richards started allocating tasks, and Backup, looking at the files on the people and places involved, suddenly had an idea. One of them was a former doctor. What if she got hold of the doctor on the Laetitia? Maybe he had some idea, especially if it was something Chris had picked up from the bear. Surely he'd be an expert in illnesses relating to cold or exposure, too? Well, it was an idea. She racked her brains to recall his name, but realised it shouldn't be too hard too find out.

She had tossed aside the files for a second, hit a few keys and opened the Greenland case. Her eyes flew over the words. There is was: agents 3.7 and 4.5... assigned to get hold of a compact disc....vital information...a surveillance station.... possible power plant... She scrolled on. There was the part about the rescue of her team-mates... helicopter rescue... marine vessel class II, commanding officer captain Roger Herbert... Laetitia... hypothermia….severe blood loss... Doctor Jeffrey Gerkowitz....

Backup stopped, confused. That name didn't ring a bell, of that she was certain. She searched some more. She entered a different database and ran through the personnel files of the Laetitia. And suddenly she began to remember: Malm. No. Not Malm, Molnit. No... no... no. Malnit. That was it!

Again she typed rapid entries, and when the results began to come in, she knew she was onto something. Backup picked up the phone and dialled Sam's number.

*****

PART THREE

Although it was still quite early, there was already a lot of activity at HQ. Sam rushed straight through to Backup's workstation where both she and Richards were at work, deeply concentrated.

"What's up, Backup?" Sam didn't waste any time on small talk. "What did you find?"

She startled to his voice, returning to earth from the absolute focus on her screen. She waved towards it, now.

"Something very peculiar on our friendly doctor from the Laetitia. Is this the guy who treated you?"

Sam nodded thoughtfully, noting the silver hair and unusual face. Then he nodded.

"He's not one of the regular crew of the Laetitia" Backup explained. "He assisted there - apparently, it's not unusual for local doctors to offer their services when regular crew members are on leave. So he embarked just a few days before we did."

"And?"

"I did some background checking on the man. I entered his records and guess what? Malnit was a leading scientist in blood research in Denmark. He was financed for years by all kinds of international blood banks, but as a result of too few concrete results, his funding dried up and was finally cut altogether. He gave up his research, moved back to his homeland - Greenland - and started working as a GP."

She saw the grim look on Sam's face and pushed a few keys on her keyboard, turning the screen a little towards him so that he could see the face more clearly. Then she saw a dark, dangerous expression fill the grey-green eyes.

"There's more," she added. "As I was scanning his files I came across another Malnit in the list of physicians: his son."

"What about him?"

"Bertil Malnit studied medicine in Copenhagen. He was a young and promising physician, and then something went wrong. He lost a child during a simple operation. The official reports call it incompetence but the word has it he was drunk at the time, so he was expelled from the official register in Denmark. He lives in the same town as his father, but they don't seem to be on speaking terms. He assists at the local hospital and works with the flying doctor service in Greenland. Medical staff is hard to get up there, so I'm assuming he manages to get some work even with dubious credentials. That's only my take on it, though."

She rubbed her neck with slender fingers, starting to feel the lack of sleep - it always started there, just above her shoulders.

"Go on, Miss Backus." Malone's voice made both of them look up. They hadn't heard him entering, nor noticed him listening to Backup's explanation. He too, was worried, Backup knew - otherwise he would have told her that she had to be working on her assignment instead of poking around on an old case.
She turned to her screen again and entered some quick commands.

"This was what struck me most, sir. Directly after his arrival on the ship he had blood tests run on every person aboard. The official reason was a probable infection of staphylococcus. But nothing was found."

The faces of both father and son Malnit appeared on screen now, plus a description of both men. Backup tapped at the screen with a fingernail. Malnit was a widower; his wife and the mother of his sons had died of cancer. Bertil was the middle son of three - one had died of blood cancer as well. There was no data available on the youngest of the three.

"A stand-in for the ship's doctor with a history in haematology, an extensive blood test on every crew member, and finally Chris seriously ill after being there - what does this tell us, Backup?" Sam commented as he counted on his fingers. "Too much of a coincidence, wouldn't you say?"

Backup didn't reply but looked at Malone instead.

The CI5 controller stood there, obviously thinking hard. Backup and Sam looked at each other, and she knew - as did the two men - that they had to get back to Greenland.

Malone turned to them, pointing his finger at them and said:

"Get a chopper ready. I want you to interrogate Malnit senior. See what you can come up with on junior. Mr. Spencer? Call for appropriate support in Lejestud. Now. Mr. Curtis, Miss Backup, keep me informed. Dismissed."

"Spence?" Curtis asked suddenly.

"What, Sam?"

"Ask them to have two Inuit suits ready."

*****

During the afternoon, the tossing and turning calmed a little, and Fanny saw Chris starting to relax. He didn't look as feverish, and his breathing was less shallow. All this seemed to indicate that the pain was subsiding, and what was more, he fell asleep.

As the evening came, he opened his eyes and looked around him and then registered amazement and immense pleasure as he recognised his visitor. After two doctors examined him, one of the nurses came over to Fanny and told her she could visit the patient, just for a few minutes.

Chris looked at the redhead who quietly stepped into his unit. Her voice still sounded hoarse, but it somehow was beautiful music after the time he had seen her unable to speak at all. She smiled, regular white teeth showing and stepped closer to him - then planted a tender kiss on his forehead.

"I'm not supposed to touch you. They're afraid you might catch something."

"From you? A bad case of loving you, maybe." Chris was so pleased to see her that he felt better at once.

"How did you get here? How long have you been here?"

"I arrived early this morning. Backup mailed me. I met Sam and he told me what happened. How do you feel?"

"Er… fine," he lied. "I've seen better days, but I'm alright. I remember being in pain and feeling nauseous - not much else. Judging from the sore muscles, it almost feels like the flu, but from the way they're acting it was a bit more than that."

Fanny nodded. She touched his cheek and then ran her fingers through his short hair.

"A bit more, yes. You had us worried there."

Chris saw the truth in her eyes. Worried was an understatement.

"Ah, well you know me. If I do something, I do it properly." He tried to brush away her worry. "By the way, where's Sam?"

"He was called over to HQ, this morning. He gave me your cell phone and asked me to call if there was any change. So I did phone him an hour ago, but he was out of reach. I'll try again later."

Chris brought his hand to her face and touched it lovingly. He had gone through hell - but this wonderful woman made him feel like he was close to heaven right now. He didn't doubt for a second that he would be fine. A good night's rest, and tomorrow he would go home and have a great time with Fanny by his side.

*****

Greenland had been blinding by its overwhelming brightness the first time Sam had been there. The cold had been intense, and of course his involuntary dive into the icy water had only taught him not to underestimate the powers of nature.

All the same, both he and Backup were totally unprepared for the freezing cold wind that blew, storm-like, over the Greenland landscape. The gruesome cold seemed to cut straight to the bone as they got out of the helicopter. Sam saw Backup narrowing her eyes to protect them from the cold and the effect it was having on her.

"You okay, Backup?" he shouted to make himself heard over the storm.

"Geez, Sam, this is what I call cold," she yelled back with chattering teeth, holding firmly on to the hood of her down parka.

They ran into the barracks near the airstrip where all the equipment Spencer had asked for was ready. One of the crewmembers there pointed out on a map how they could get to Fakseplads and took them to a big four-wheel drive Landrover.

Heavy snow and blizzards were predicted and the Greenlander seemed to be concerned for their health as he asked them several times if they were certain they would want to leave now. But the two operatives wanted to get going.

Sam couldn't shake off the constant, niggling feeling of having to hurry - always fearing that his partner was getting worse. He tried to contact HQ, but the weather was bad and too much atmospheric disturbance made it impossible to either phone or radio to CI5.

Backup slid into the Inuit suit, and commented on the comforting warmth the minute she put the trousers on. She wouldn't win a prize in a beauty contest, she informed Sam wryly, but staying warm seemed like a better idea.

Sam hauled himself into a similar suit, too. The crewman had warned them not to stay out in the open air for too long - the ice cold wind could freeze them faster than they would realise. After thanking the kind man for his words, they got into the Landrover and drove out of the barracks.

Fakseplads had no street names. It was a small community and apparently everyone knew everyone else: most houses had names painted on the façades.

Backup was going after the son, Bertil Malnit. She dropped Sam off close to the house where Malnit senior was supposed to live, which was called "Der Grüne Apfel ". In German, Sam knew, it meant The Green Apple. Why on earth anyone would choose such a name in Greenland was a mystery to him. The Frozen Apple would have been more appropriate.

It was a big, lime green painted house at the right side of the road. There was no yard or garden, only a small white fence with a mailbox placed a few yards around the house. As it was almost evening and turning dark outside, lights were on inside.

"That's it. Judging from the lights, there's someone home".

"What do you want me to do, Sam? Shall I go round the back while you talk to the esteemed doctor?" Backup suggested, while preparing herself to get out of the car's warmth.

In a flash it occurred to Sam that Chris never asked such things. He... he just did it. They were so completely used to working together that there was no need to discuss it - they simply knew what to do. Backup was competent - efficient - but she wasn't Chris. And again, Sam was stabbed by the threat of losing his friend.

"No, Backup. I'll be okay. You go and find the son - it's only a few streets further. And be careful, hey?"

He opened the car door, got out and the same moment his R/T crackled. Backup, who had moved over to the driver's seat, looked at Sam's face and saw a smile appear. She couldn't hear what he said as she was adjusting her own gear but liked what she saw.

"That was the helicopter pilot with a message from HQ. Seems Chris has taken a turn for the better. Fanny called." The relief on his face was so obvious that it made Backup chuckle.

"What?" Sam raised his eyebrows questioning.

"Nothing. Never mind." She grinned at him. "Just that you look as relieved as I felt when you finally came round in that tub, worried about being 'not decent'".

Before he could react to that, she was gone.

*****

PART FOUR

After ringing the bell, the door was opened by a middle-aged woman who answered his request to speak with the doctor with a suspicious frown. She showed him to a small, empty waiting room and left him there, and then disappeared in one of the adjacent rooms.

She came back a minute later saying that the doctor was busy with a patient, but if he cared to wait for ten minutes, he would be available. Would he like some tea in the meantime?

It was a little stuffy and warm inside, so Sam hung the thick Inuit suit on the hallstand and drank the hot tea she'd brought him. He waited for fifteen minutes, maybe even more. Psychological warfare? Maybe they hoped to make him uncomfortable? Or maybe there was a patient in the room. Two more minutes, then he would go over there out of his own accord, he decided.

But then he heard a door opening and voices outside. When he peered into the hallway he saw the white-headed doctor help an old lady to the way out.

Then Doctor Jens Malnit came to the waiting room. He was in his early fifties, and now Sam realised what was strange about him. He had one deep brown and one pale blue eye which, together with the snowy white hair, brow and lashes made his whole appearance bizarre. The smug smile was far too obvious, too, as he waited for Sam to begin.

"Doctor Malnit, do you remember me?" Sam asked, and the older man shook his head slowly. Slow, that was the key word for him, Sam suddenly recalled.

"With whom do we have the pleasure?" he asked slowly, each syllable pronounced carefully. His English was interwoven with an accent, Danish or German maybe.

"Curtis. You treated me on the Laetitia for hypothermia."

"Ah, yes, now I know."

Sam didn't beat about the bush. "I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Concerning…?"

"Concerning blood." Sam said curtly.

He didn't appreciate the man's air of arrogance, but tried hard to disguise it. It was the only lead they had. Malnit swung the door open and let him to his office, where he immediately went and sat behind a large, expensive-looking oak desk. He ordered the sullen woman to bring in tea and she came in almost right away. When she had left, closing the door behind her, he put his fingertips together and smiled patronisingly.

"What can we do to help you, Mr… Curtis, wasn't it?"

He speaks in the plural, Sam thought, disgusted. Fine, if he wants it that way, he can have it that way.

"I want to know what you were doing aboard the Laetitia. Why you ordered a blood test for the entire crew. And how this is linked to my colleague's sudden illness."

There was no change in the doctor's face. He kept silent for a minute or so, trying to build up suspense as a speaker would do before revealing the Oscar winners. Sam tightened his jaw - it was difficult to keep control, but he also knew that losing his temper would only give the doctor an advantage.

Keep cool, Curtis, he told himself.

"Let me guess." the slow voice began. He even blinked his eerie eyes in slow motion. "It started five days after a blood transfusion. Your agent got a nosebleed. Then he was hit by a spell of dizziness - and passed out as a result of the two. Then he required hospitalisation with high fever and considerable pain. Am I right so far?"

Sam nodded, but the doctor needed little encouragement - he liked the sound of his own voice a great deal.

"The doctors could only tell you that something was wrong with his blood. They performed all kinds of tests, but had no idea how to treat him. That is difficult, when they had no idea of what was wrong, of course."

He leant back in his large, comfortable chair, whose dark leather made his hair look even whiter. His lower lip jutted out, thoughtfully.

"Has he gone into phase two already? After the sudden yet short remission?"

Phase two? Oh, God. The tightness in Sam's stomach was back, and his throat constricted as he realised the implications of the last few words.

"Phase two is strange, isn't it? Cruel even, after 36 hours. To all appearances, the patient is getting better, while in fact the body is preparing itself for phase three: the final struggle and the inevitable end."

Sam broke loose from the chain of thoughts that this man had hung around his neck.

"What have you done to him, for Christ's sake?" he shouted, jumping up and grabbing the man's collar. He was so self-assured, so goddamn certain of his own superiority, that Sam had to fight the temptation to put a fist into the smug face.

"Relax, Mr. Curtis. I believe you are entitled to some explanation." Malnit corrected his clothing where Sam had grasped it, and looked at him with disdain.

"I have spent many years on research into blood. Something I believe that is not exactly standard learning material in your...er... line of work."

Keep cool, Curtis, Sam repeated to himself. Something blurred his vision for a fleeting moment, but he didn't pay attention to it.

"So we" - the plural was back again - "shall explain it in a way that a layman like yourself can understand.
Be patient. For Chris' sake.

"Now," Malnit continued. "You will undoubtedly know there are four main blood groups: O, A, B and AB. The most common are O and A, which account for 70% and 20% of the population respectively. B is less normal - approximately 5% - and AB is a rarity. Less than 0,20% of humanity has this particular type."

"I know that, but…"

"Hear me out, please, Mr. Curtis. A second typical part is the Rhesus factor: positive or negative. It would be too much to start and explain about that, so let's leave it for now."

Sam listened, still in the grip of the horrible realisation that Chris was only in remission. What was he going to do? What could he do? He forced himself to observe his surroundings while he listened, noting that there were two more doors in the room. One of them had a small pictogram that showed it to be a dressing room or locker. The other one was not labelled. Behind the doctor's table were high, shuttered windows, with the wind howling behind them.

"So, let's skip 30 years of hard work and begin at the moment of my discovery of a rare and unique antibody in the blood type O and A. Let us call the element anti-Jx. I - and I alone- discovered that this anti-Jx element contained a substance that, after extensive processing, could attach itself to certain cancer cells and stop the process of multiplication."

Sam could not help but interrupt, then. The doctor blew over his tea and then took a sip.

"That's quite a discovery. If you are able to stop healthy cells from turning into cancer cells you have the key to the cure for one of the most world's most feared diseases in your hand. But that's no excuse for using human guinea pigs, for Christ's sake."

Malnit put the teacup down. The haughty look was back, and he ignored Sam completely, continuing his lecture.

"The problem was how to get anti-Jx from the blood. Hundreds of tests on lab rats showed it could only come free after an injection directly prior to a blood transfusion. This injection, however, stopped the production of the antibody in the body itself. A blood transfusion did not help as the body could not filter the anti-Jx back into the system - nor set the production running again."

"What happened to the lab rats? After they had received that injection?" Sam began to see which way this was heading and he didn't like it one bit.

"They died. We were on the verge of finding out how to get the production initiated again, when the finances were cut." he sighed theatrically. "We understand that it must have been rather gruesome to see hundreds of rat cadavers instead of results. And it is so difficult to find the correct blood type - only ONE sample in the entire crew of the Laetitia."